Robby Clay and the Borg
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #80 Spock receives a disturbing inheritance from his aunt's estate and a surprise visitation that is even more disturbing.


Bethany had not meant to laugh. There was nothing funny about a funeral, but somehow the flower-draped casket and somber music triggered a strange reaction inside her. Though she bit her tongue hard, the laughter broke out in strangled snorts that made Rose Ellen jab her ribs with an elbow. Her sister's disapproval only make Bethany laugh harder. Seated across the church aisle, Les and Mike Breskin glowered at her, at Mom, at Grandfather Spock and his wife T'Naisa. As the adult sons of poor Aunt Doris, whose body lay in that coffin, they had a right to be offended.

Bethany flushed with acute embarrassment, but she could not seem to stop the inappropriate snickering. Suddenly Mom stood, pointed Bethany toward the aisle, and escorted her outside. A summer rain had left Minneapolis uncomfortably humid. Standing in the heat, Bethany struggled to straighten her face…and failed.

"Sorry," she choked.

T'Beth's eyes flamed hotter than the sun. "Maybe Aunt Doris didn't mean anything to you, but she was a dear woman and she helped raise me. Your juvenile behavior has humiliated our entire family. I should have kept you home with little Alex!"

The sting of her mother's words made Bethany defensive, and the laughter gave way to angry tears. "I said I'm sorry! Do you think I did it deliberately?"

T'Beth gave no answer. "Stay out here," she ordered, and headed back into the beautiful old Westminster Presbyterian church.

Fuming, Bethany dashed the tears from her eyes and found a shady spot near the splashing fountain. How she wished that her father had been able to come. He always made an effort to understand her, but lately with Mom, one argument followed another. It was as if T'Beth had forgotten what it was like to be fifteen.

oooo

Spock observed the angry set of T'Beth's jaw when she returned to the pew alone. As the minister mounted the pulpit and began to speak, a portion of Spock's mind drifted back to memories of T'Beth's teenage years. Headstrong, mercurial, rebellious, baffling. As an inexperienced father, he had been totally unprepared for the wearying round of conflict she brought to his orderly life. If not for the help of Aunt Doris, he might have been forced to leave Starfleet.

His personal experience of Bethany was quite different. Perhaps she made life difficult for her mother, but these days she treated him with affectionate respect. As a grandfather, he could appreciate Bethany's youthful vitality without undue concern as to where it might lead her. T'Beth was living proof that one could survive the temporary misuse of Sy energy.

The funeral concluded. As they rose to leave, T'Beth hurried to his side and apologized for Bethany's inappropriate laughter.

"She is young," Spock said in the girl's defense, "and in a highly emotional state. It sometimes happens…a fleeting form of hysteria."

T'Beth gave him a skeptical look. "If it had been me, at her age, you wouldn't be so understanding."

T'Naisa gave his arm a squeeze and said, "He's mellowed."

Spock cast his wife a bemused glance and after taking her aside for a brief consultation, returned to T'Beth and asked, "Why not let Bethany come home with us? The seminary is not in session."

oooo

After a mandatory lecture from her mother, Bethany happily traveled to Plum Creek. If she sensed a bit of jealousy on her mother's part, so much the better. She knew that T'Beth's teen years with Spock had been troubled, and it made Bethany want all the more to be on Grandfather's good side. And the fact was, she had grown to like him. She liked everything about him. Grandfather had a pleasant, welcoming aura that made it clear that he liked her, too.

At Plum Creek, she squeezed into a little bedroom with Anika Pontus. Though the shy college student was very pregnant with Uncle Jamie's child, it didn't seem that he cared much about her. Jamie divided most of his time between a town job and his horses. It saddened Bethany to see him give more attention to his dog, Dusty, than poor Anika. Bethany wondered if Anika's trouble was the reason why T'Beth had let her come. Maybe Mom thought it would be a good lesson. _Look at Jamie and Anika. See what can happen?_

Bethany enjoyed her days at the rustic cabin. She had read Adrianna's diary, and sometimes when she looked at Grandfather, she thought of the burning love he had held for T'Beth's beautiful mother. She could not help wondering how many other secrets were locked beneath that placid Vulcan exterior. He did not seem at all old, and Sy-empathy told her that he was brimming with interesting emotions. Hardly a day went by when they did not escape his self-imposed mental barriers, particularly while he was with his young daughter, Tess. But the day the mysterious package arrived, something changed inside Spock, and Bethany began to watch him more closely than ever.

oooo

A bit of dust drifted as the currier's groundcar rose in the air and sped over the road. Standing on the porch, Spock was only marginally aware of four curious females staring at him and at the box he was holding. T'Naisa, Tess, Anika, and Bethany had risen from the neat rows of vegetables in the garden patch. Bearing baskets of produce, they moved in for a closer look.

"Who's it from?" T'Naisa questioned.

"The executor of my aunt's estate," he replied with some uneasiness. He had not expected to receive anything from Doris. Though for a time she had opened her home to T'Beth, Spock had never felt close to her.

Turning, he went inside, took the box into his bedroom, and closed the door. Settling into a chair, he broke the box seal and found a handwritten letter atop a stack of papers.

 _"Dear Spock,"_ it read. _"How strange, calling you 'dear', since there was never much warmth between us—you being so very Vulcan. But my sister's blood also runs in your veins. Since she was your mother, these stories now rightfully belong to you. Mandy wrote them in the early years of her marriage, and I hope that you will cherish them as much as I have. Your aunt, Doris."_

Intrigued, Spock set the letter aside and reached into the box. He brought out the first story, neatly penned on sheets of paper in his mother's distinctive script. It was clearly a work of fiction. "Robby and the Robbers" was a humorous tale of adventure involving an eight-year-old boy. Like Amanda, the child was completely human and her affection for him showed in every line. Spock finished the story and reached for another. It, too, was about Robby Clay. Spock quickly sifted through the manuscripts—thirty-seven in all—every one of them featuring the same boy. Robby Clay. _How familiar the name_ _seemed_ …

And with that thought, a memory slipped into place. It was the autumn before the death of his first wife Lauren and his daughter Teresa. The Pacific Coast was in flux, and while the family was staying at the California beach house, Teresa spoke of strange visits from Robby Clay, a boy who warned her of impending danger.

Coincidence? The notion of a fictional child manifesting himself was absurd.

Later that day, Spock shared the stories with his family, and Bethany in particular was curious about the Robby character. Together, they went to the computer and researched the name, but could find no real or fictional boy resembling Amanda's active, mischievous Robert. So it seemed that young Robby was an original creation. Though Spock could not have said why, it disturbed him to think of his mother spending countless hours dreaming up adventures for an imaginary child.

That night, as he lay in bed, the image of a playful human boy cartwheeled through his mind. Robby Clay had such a likeable personality, and the stories were well-written. Why had Amanda never shared the stories with him, as she had with other fictional works by published authors?

Shortly after midnight, he received a sudden, painful insight.

As he sat up, T'Naisa stirred in the darkness beside him and said, "Spock. What's the matter?"

His throat tightened on the words. "Robby Clay. I believe I have it now. I understand."

"Understand what?"

"This child she invented and kept hidden from me. Robby is the boy I could never be—the human boy she longed for—the boy she _really_ wanted."

T'Naisa rose on one elbow. "Oh Spock, no. You're wrong."

"Am I?" he wondered aloud. He had long known that he was a disappointment to his father. Sarek had made that abundantly clear on more than one occasion. But until this moment, Spock had felt certain of his mother's love, even though he had failed to return it in a demonstrative manner. "Ironic," he mused. "I was not human enough for her, yet I am too human for my father."

"Don't say that!" T'Naisa voice shook with emotion as she reached for him. "You're wrong, I tell you. No wonder your mother hid those stories. She was probably afraid that you'd misunderstand them…just like you're doing now."

oooo

A change had come over Grandfather. At breakfast, he seemed distant and T'Naisa had to remind him to take his pills. Afterward, Bethany tried to interest him in the box of stories, but he no longer seemed to care about them. She sensed his deep sadness as he expressed a desire to be alone and excused himself.

Standing at a window, Bethany watched him disappear into the woods with Dusty. "T'Naisa, is it me?" she asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, of course not," T'Naisa answered as she arranged Tessie's auburn hair. "It's the stories, that's all. They make him think of his mother, but he'll be alright."

"Oh." Bethany had heard stories about her late great-grandmother who lived on Vulcan, and had seen pictures in an album. The Robby Clay tales made her seem like a real flesh and blood person, young and full of life. No wonder Grandfather missed her.

"What was her name?" Bethany asked. "I mean, before she married Ambassador Sarek?"

T'Naisa glanced up, a little furrow between her slanted brows. "Grayson."

"Amanda Grayson." Saying it, Bethany thought, _What a beautiful name…_

oooo

The theater was not crowded. It was a weekday evening, and the movie had been playing for some time. Even so, Spock would not have chosen to attend, but T'Naisa liked this form of entertainment. It had been her idea to bring everyone along and share popcorn in the dark. Spock suspected that the classic screen adventure "Star Wars" was intended to lift his mood, but it was not working. Carefully stepping past Bethany, he wandered off to the lobby, then went outside. He was standing alone near the sidewalk when a black cat approached him and rubbed against his leg.

"Yes Isis, I see him," spoke a deep voice. A darkly clothed man emerged from some shadows and said, "Ambassador Spock."

Taken aback, Spock studied him. The face from his distant past had not aged. "Gary Seven. Have you confused me with my father, Sarek? Although I have taken assignments as a special envoy, I am not an ambassador."

Seven gave a slight, fleeting smile. "So you remember me. Good. Listen carefully and tell no one. Soon you will be approached by officials from the Federation. They will ask you to assume the role of ambassador in a delicate negotiation with the Romulans. If you carry out the mission, there will be an appearance of success, but unintended repercussions will precipitate invasion by an insidious hive-race known as the Borg. In ten years' time, Earth, Vulcan, and many other Federation planets will be overrun by Borg and fully assimilated into their Collective. You. Your children, your grandchildren. Everyone."

 _Borg._ Spock recalled his history. Cybernetic humanoids called Borg were reported by Zephram Cochrane at the time of Vulcan's first contact with Earth. Frozen Borg drones from that incident were discovered in the last century, revived, and subsequently destroyed by Captain Jonathan Archer of the _Enterprise_ _NX-01_.

Spock said, "The Borg are thought to reside in the Delta Quadrant."

"Yet they've been here before."

The cat butted her head against Spock's leg, and he glanced downward. Her jeweled collar sparkled in the light of the marquee.

"Yes, Isis," Seven told his shape-shifting companion. "We can only hope that he listens."

A sound made Seven turn his head, and seeing a girl approaching, he gathered Isis into his arms and walked down the street.

Bethany joined Spock on the sidewalk. "I wondered where you went. Who was that man with the cat?"

Spock's eyes scanned the area, but Gary Seven was nowhere to be seen. "I do not know," he told his granddaughter, and it was true enough. He knew next to nothing about the time traveler and his strange partner.

Back home, Spock left the cabin and crossed over to the seminary. James had not yet settled into his room for the night, and Spock had the building all to himself. Alone in the office, he accessed the net for any reference to Gary Seven and Isis. Just as he had expected, there was no information besides Captain Kirk's declassified report about the incident in which Spock had also been involved. Sitting back, he reviewed the warning Seven gave him outside the theater. Time travel was indeed possible. Spock himself had entered the past on more than one occasion. But should this strange man be taken seriously? Because they had once met, long ago?

 _Tell no one,_ Seven had cautioned. Not even Kirk? Jim had not been the same since his return from the Nexus, but Spock still would have liked his input. _No one._ Very well, then. For now he would heed the time traveler's warning and see how matters progressed.

oooo

The phone call came when Spock was in his bedroom preparing for a visit with Pope Augustine at the Vatican. Bethany answered the phone and called to him from the living room. Spock remained in the bedroom and took the call on his padd.

The Federation seal appeared on the small screen, followed by a high-level official. She offered a greeting and requested that he meet with the Council regarding a matter of grave importance.

Spock experienced a peculiar tingling sensation.

"It will call upon your experience as an envoy," she added.

He was aware of a gaping silence until the official spoke again. "Mr. Spock? Can we depend on you?"

His heart pounding, he scheduled an appointment and quickly ended the call. All his life he had worked at thinking calmly and concisely. It was not like him to waver with indecision, and he began to wonder if his medication was failing. Looking to a corner of the room, he saw the box from Aunt Doris. The bold, adventurous Robby Clay would have no fear of choosing the wrong course. Though Robby was human, he never felt panicky or out of control. And here sat a grown man, a disciplined Vulcan, completely unsure of how to proceed.

oooo

Bethany was glad for a chance to be alone with T'Naisa. They had driven halfway to Pinehaven before she could bring herself to say, "What's going on with Grandfather?"

T'Naisa's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "It's the stories, like I told you. I wish they'd never sent them."

"But they're so good," Bethany declared.

T'Naisa sighed. "You love Spock a lot, don't you?"

Bethany nodded. "There was a time when he scared me, but not anymore."

Releasing control to the guidance system, T'Naisa sat back, her face troubled. "Well, I think you're old enough to understand a thing or two and keep it to yourself. Picture this. You're an only child, born with red hair like mine, in a family where nobody has red hair. Your brown-haired father makes it clear that you're not up to his standards, but you think your mother loves you just fine. Then one day you find a whole pile of stories she's written about a little girl with golden hair just like hers. What would you think? That maybe your mother was dreaming of the child she wished she had? Instead of you?"

Bethany saw at once what T'Naisa was getting at, and it made her angry. "You mean Grandfather...because he's half Vulcan and half human. How could his parents be so mean? When they got married, they knew their children would be halflings."

"Yes," T'Naisa agreed. "So it would seem."

Tears of sympathy stung Bethany's eyes. There had been times at home, in the midst of some squabble, when she wondered if her mother still loved her. She would never have guessed that Grandfather could experience the same painful insecurities. "No, not his mother," she said with determination. "He has it all wrong, just wait and see." A woman who wrote so lovingly about a make-believe child would cherish her own son even more. "Grandfather was a wonderful little boy. His mother loved him to pieces, and I'm going to prove it."

oooo

Spock had not told T'Naisa about the scheduled meeting with the Federation Council. On the day of the appointment, he made some vague excuse and transported to the Paris Federation Headquarters. In a private chamber of the Council, a proposal was set before him. Having carefully prepared himself, he contained all outward reaction as they outlined a delicate negotiation with the Romulan Empire.

"Please consider it," the chairman urged, stressing the plan's importance for galactic stability.

Spock found their logic convincing and promised them a decision by week's end. He took leave of the Council and returned home in a deeply pensive mood.

That night in bed, T'Naisa asked him, "Aren't you feeling well?"

Spock knew she was thinking of his medication and the dementia it was meant to control. He could not fault her when even he was losing confidence in himself. If he chose to take the assignment, would he be capable of performing "delicate negotiations"?

"Spock," she pressed in a worried tone.

"I…am not sure," he admitted.

She leaned over and kissed him. Caressing his face, she said, "You think too much. Tonight, let the Shiav think for you."

oooo

The sun was in the trees when Spock headed to the skimmer pad behind the seminary. From out of nowhere a man loomed into his path.

Startled, Spock stared at Gary Seven and Isis blinking from his arms. He did not care for the invasion of his privacy. "Really, sir. Your behavior is most intrusive."

The solemn-faced Seven stood his ground. "Why haven't you refused the Romulan mission? Don't you understand anything I've told you? The extinction of your people—is that what you want? And half the Federation with them?"

The sharp reproach left Spock more confused than ever. What if this man's claims were genuine? "How," he asked, "am I to believe you? How am I to know the right course?"

The intruder's face remained stony as he stepped closer. "You're half Vulcan. You were schooled in Vulcan ways. Look for yourself."

Spock hesitated. There was a chance that Gary Seven possessed unknown alien powers that could prove harmful to his mind. Yet something even more than curiosity drew him. With so much possibly at stake, he _had_ to know.

Taking a moment to prepare, he moved in and arranged his fingers on the cool, seemingly human skin. "My thoughts to yours," he said, letting the age-old formula focus his energy on the task. As his mind bridged the space between them, he gasped.

oooo

 _…The fact that Spock knew it was a dream did little to assuage the sense of horror. Alone, he wandered through a ghastly landscape where Borg technology had turned humanoids into hideous drones devoid of independent reasoning. His mind reeled from the horrific images of pasty bodies disfigured by cybernetic implants, interfacing with machines._

 _Humans. Vulcans. So many others._

 _He had to focus on the task at hand. He had to keep moving. He had to locate his family._

 _All during his search, drones had passed him as if he did not exist, but now suddenly there stood before him a handsome brown-haired boy, perfect in every feature. And somehow Spock knew that it was Robby Clay._

 _The boy spoke in an unnatural monotone. "We are Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."_

 _Coming out of his shock, Spock turned to flee, but two Borg were close behind him. Machinelike claws clamped over his arms. As he struggled, one extended its hand. A pair of tubules deployed from its knuckles and jabbed into his neck with a sharp pain. Spock felt the nanoprobes injecting into his bloodstream, felt the Borg collective shredding its way through his mental shields as the assimilation process began…_

He jolted awake. Light streamed through the windows, and the place beside him in bed was empty. Sighing with relief, he rose and after readying himself for the day, went over to the seminary temple. The sanctuary lamp cast soothing shadows as he settled on a bench. Logic alone offered no answer for his dilemma, so he opened himself to the Shiav's guidance. Along with the Borg threat, he had glimpsed a portion of a bright alternate future in the time traveler's mind. Would a day come when he would accept an ambassadorial role in order to promote galactic peace? Would he travel to Romulus on a covert mission advancing unification with Vulcan and promoting the Way of Yanash? As for the Borg—according to Gary Seven, they too would eventually appear, but not as conquerors. If Mr. Seven would be trusted.

Spock had found no evidence of deceit and was inclined to believe him…but he was equally inclined to believe in the Federation's current strategy for peace with the Romulans. Had they not successfully used Spock to attain peace with the Klingon Empire?

Abruptly it occurred to him that if the plan was sound, another Vulcan experienced in diplomacy would do just as well—perhaps even his own father. Here, perhaps, was a satisfactory solution. Reaching a decision, he rose and strode purposefully to the office where he placed a call to Federation Headquarters, declining the mission and recommending Sarek. Afterward he stepped out into the warm summer morning. He felt better for having settled the affair in a logical manner, but deep in his heart the voice of a fictional boy continued to taunt him. _Too slow to act. Performance inadequate. Short of the mark._

The cabin door slammed. He turned, expecting to see his daughter Tess bounding toward him, but it was T'Naisa and Bethany. T'Naisa watched from the porch as Bethany ran over, waving a padd.

"Look, look!" she said breathlessly. "Grandfather, I solved it—I solved the mystery!"

Bethany was never happier than when she could unravel a mystery, but Spock had no idea what his granddaughter meant. Just now, the Borg were still uppermost in his thoughts.

"It's Robby Clay!" she said, thrusting the padd into his hands. Her cheeks were flushed and her amber eyes shone with excitement. "Read it. Clay isn't his last name, at all—it's Grayson, like your mother. Robert Clay Grayson. I found him in Seattle's vital statistics. He died when he was barely two months old and he's buried there under a little lamb. He's a real little boy—your _uncle_. That's why Amanda sent the stories to Doris. They both understood because Robby was their brother!"

Spock shifted his attention from galactic annihilation to the datapadd. Robert Clay Grayson. Amanda Grayson's brother. Spock's uncle. So Amanda had not created a fantasy son, after all. He was a real child who had graced his family with a life-saving visitation at the California beach house.

A weight lifted from him, and clearing his throat, he said, "Good work, Bethany. You are an excellent sleuth. This information will give the stories a whole new perspective."

With youthful exuberance, Bethany planted a swift kiss on his cheek, reminding him of his mother's embarrassing displays of affection when he was a boy. On the porch, T'Naisa laughed, but Spock felt so little discomfiture that he was sure his mother would be proud of his progress.

oooo

July was coming to an end and T'Beth wanted her daughter back home. Reluctantly Bethany packed her belongings in preparation for the transport to Phoenix. She had enjoyed her peaceful stay at Plum Creek, without a single word of reprimand from Grandfather or T'Naisa. Sadly, she wondered how long it would be before she and her mother resumed their clashes. One day? Perhaps two?

She was folding a blouse when a shadow fell across the open doorway.

"Grandfather," she said, glad for his company. Before she could stop herself, tearful words spilled out. "I wish I could just stay here."

Quietly entering the room, he said, "Your mother misses you."

Bethany had her own ideas about that. "She's probably just worried that I'm having too much fun."

"To the contrary," he replied. "It gives parents pleasure to see their children content…and safe." Reaching out, he handed her a computer disk. "This is for you. I've loaded all the Robby Clay stories. Show them to your mother; I'm sure she will want copies for herself."

"Oh, thank you!" Bethany flashed a smile and accepted the thoughtful gift. Then, in a more serious vein she asked, "What was she like? I mean, _your_ mother?"

Grandfather's eyebrow rose as he took a moment to consider. "She was the daughter of a university professor. Highly educated, gracious, and refined. As a married woman, she tutored children and taught piano."

Bethany tried to picture it. "When you were little, did she tuck you into bed and read you stories?"

"She did indeed, though my father disliked the practice. She read stories from a collection of antique books."

Wistfully Bethany said, "I bet she never laughed at funerals."

"Perhaps she did, for Mother was an emotional woman." Grandfather studied her before adding, "Bethany, I know you are having difficulty at home. Some conflict is inevitable during the adolescent years, but you must never doubt your mother's love. Always remember, she cares deeply about you."

His reassurance warmed her. As she placed the computer disk in her luggage, she resolved to keep Spock's words in her heart.

oooOOooo


End file.
